Hopes Rebirth
by crazzyredhead
Summary: A war ravaged Hermione, Ron, and Ginny make a desperate move to bring to life a long dead being: hope. PostHBP. HG RHr Warnings: Death, Mild Language
1. Hope's Death

A/N: The past is in normal type. **Present is in bold. **_Letters are in italics_.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its characters etc. belong to J.K. Rowling, who uses her possession to drive us all mad with anxiety trying to patiently wait for the new book. It is because of our total lack of patience that we use fanfiction to fill the void.

Chapter One: Hopes Death

**The war had not been kind to what many referred to now as the "new" trio, though without any humor. Hermione, once curvy and pretty, was thin and ill-looking, with dark circles under her eyes. Tiredly, she gripped her husband's hand and squeezed. Ron's body and face were a tapestry of old scars, cuts that had been healed the Muggle way, mute testament to the fact that healers were scarce, having been picked off long ago. Madam Pomfrey herself had died in the fall of Hogwarts, trying to make portkeys for all the students trapped in the hospital wing. It was Ginny Weasley, though, who looked the most different. Her bright red hair and warm brown eyes now looked cold and dull. There was one defining characteristic they all shared: none of their eyes held a single tinge of hope. Their "hope" had died ten years ago.**

Ginny Weasley woke up to a tapping at her bedroom window. Thinking it was Pig confusing her room and her brother's room again, she tried to ignore it. She hadn't slept well the previous night, as she'd cried herself to sleep over her now ex-boyfriend Harry. She understood why he'd broken it off with her, the stupid noble git, but didn't he realize that the safest place she could possibly be was next to the one man who would always protect her? The man she loved?

The tapping persisted. Exasperated, Ginny flung off her covers and stalked to the window to let the stupid little owl into the house…only to find Hedwig looking at her with an expression that clearly said, "Are you going to let me in or let me hover out hear 'til I become as worn out as Errol?" Shocked, she quickly threw open the window and allowed the beautiful white owl in. Regally, Hedwig landed on her desk and held out her leg, to which was tied a letter addressed to her in Harry's messy scrawl. Fingers shaking a tiny bit, she reached out to untie the letter.

_To my dearest Ginny,_

_I…I'm sorry. I've been a complete asshole jerk prat and I should have known better. Ginny…this past month I've been trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing, breaking up with you. But I keep...seeing your face. The tears in your eyes after I told you we couldn't be together, your smile when we walked around the lake after the Quidditch match, the fierce determination when you helped me face down death eaters at the Ministry, the concern after the Chamber…and I realized: you can take care of yourself. I've never known anyone stronger than you. And I'm stronger when I'm with you. I also realized that just because I told you to stay home doesn't mean you will. You are one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. _

_It's one of the reasons I'm in love with you. _

_I'm sorry, ok? I know I hurt you. If someone else did what I did to you I would probably gut them, and they'd deserve it. I deserve it. But I'm hoping you'll forgive me. _

_I'm coming to the Burrow tomorrow. When I get there, I'd like it very much if you'd give me another shot._

_Here's hoping._

_With all my love,_

_Harry James Potter_

Ginny sank into her chair, shock apparent on her face. Her eyes stared straight ahead without even faltering when the twin terrors burst into her room.

"Hey, Gin did we just see Hedwig"

"Fly out of your window?"

"Did Harry send"

"A letter?"

They broke off as they took in their sister's blank gaze and Fred (or George) carefully pried the letter out of her fingers. Heads together, the twins quickly scanned it, finishing at the same time. Then they turned to each other, identical expressions of shock on their faces.

"Do you know what this means, Fred?"

"You're Fred. I'm George"

"Oh, right. Well, do you, George?"

"Yes, but tell me anyway."

"Harry Potter's going to be our brother!"

That snapped Ginny out of her stupor quick enough. Immediately she started to blush. "It wasn't a marriage proposal you idiots."

"Ah, but young Harry,"

"Who can't even handle a hug from Mum without blushing,"

"Just declared his undying love for you."

"Trust us, it's going to happen," they finished together.

Ginny rolled her eyes, still blushing madly, but she couldn't hide a big grin at their words. "Whatever. Listen, guys. Can I go with you into Diagon Alley today? I'd like to get him a birthday present."

"Sure, Ginny, but first,"

"You need to write Harry back."

Ginny nodded, and immediately pulled out parchment and ink while Fred and George went to spread the good news.

When Harry saw Pig flying towards Privet Drive, he was pretty sure his heart stopped. Quickly, he grabbed hold of the little ball of fluff and quickly opened the letter, fingers shaking with nerves. The note was only a couple of lines, but they filled him with an intoxicating warmth.

_Harry,_

_Yes, you were a prat. But you're my prat and I'm afraid you're stuck with me._

_Yours always, with all _my_ love,_

_Ginny_

_P.S. See you tomorrow._

Grinning from ear to ear, Harry threw himself into his remaining chores with a sense of euphoria. The Dursley's were having guests over tonight and they wanted the house spotless before they got there. Considering it was the last night he'd ever have to spend with his "family" he was perfectly willing to play the slave one last time.

Finally he was finished, and he collapsed onto his bed, exhausted but elated. He held Ginny's letter to him as he daydreamed about the future he wished to have with her. Then the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, and the last sound Harry expected to hear quickly followed.

"Harry," his aunt called, "the guests are here and would like to meet you!"

Like to meet him? Since when did the Dursley's acknowledge his existence to guests? In too good of a mood to care too much, Harry shrugged and shuffled down the stairs and into the living room. What he saw there froze his blood.

"What? How?"

Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and an array of other Death Eaters stood smiling next to the smug Dursleys. Sitting casually in an armchair was Voldemort himself.

"You're relatives," said Malfoy with a leer, "invited us. And all it took was a little bit of gold to convince them."

"Yes," cut in Lestrange, "it seems they're dying to see you die almost as much as we are."

Harry's hand flew to his pocket for his wand, only to remember Vernon had locked it and his trunk in the cupboard under the stairs when he'd arrived at the beginning of summer.

"What have you done?" he yelled at the Dursleys. "They'll kill you too!"

They were his last words. With lightning speed the dark lord uttered the two words that would seal his fate, and as a rush of green light hit him, his last thoughts were of his Ginny, and how he'd never see her again.

Pocketing his wand, Voldemort turned to the Dursleys and with a smirk said, "He was right you know." As they stared in horror, Voldemort nodded to his death eaters and with a last, triumphant glance at Harry's lifeless body on the floor, he gave his instructions and vanished.

With a terrifying smile, Bellatrix advanced on the limp form. "Aw, poor little Hawwy…betwayed by his own family." And with a wink for the frozen Dursleys, she pointed her wand at the dead boy. "Vivix Mordre Impericorpus," she whispered.

As his relatives quaked with fear, the body of Harry James Potter slowly rose to its feet and began to walk toward them. With careful precision and an unnatural strength, he fastened his hands around his cousin's fat neck, seemingly unaware of Vernon and Petunia trying to pull him off. The last thing Dudley saw before his world went black was Harry's glazed, dead eyes staring directly into his as his hands squeezed the life out of him. Looking on in horror as their son fell to the ground, the remaining Dursleys didn't notice the death eaters pointing their wands at them until they heard the words "Avada Kedavra"

Over the next few months, the Inferi that was once Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, appeared at the attack and downfall of the Ministry of Magic, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade until the body was recovered and disenchanted at the battle of Hogwarts. Three days after the school fell, the Weasley family, along with the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix, held a small funeral by the ruins of the castle, next to the tomb of Dumbledore. The presents for the birthday he never reached were placed on his grave as the world mourned the last chance they had to withstand Voldemort, and his friends mourned the boy they loved.

**Ten years later found both the Wizarding World and Muggle World in shambles. Voldemort and his death eaters controlled the government, if it could be called that, and all of the schools. Not a day passed in which hundreds, if not thousands, of muggles, muggle-borns, and squibs were killed. Those few members left of the resistance lacked direction and won few battles, most fled the country for the relatively safe haven of the States. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny Weasley seemed to be all that was left. And they were down to their absolute final chance.**

"**Are you sure it will work?"**

**Hermione nodded tiredly. "While it is unlikely that it will change "our" timeline, theoretically we will be able to create a new timeline, in which this…this disaster never happens." She looked sadly at her husband and sister-in-law. "It's all we have left."**

**There was silence. Then, Ginny nodded. "If there's a chance that we can save Harry, even if it isn't our Harry, we have to." Ron gave a sad nod in agreement. They stood and walked towards their places on the floor they'd spent weeks covering in ancient markings. **

"**I, Ron Weasley, hereby give a portion of my remaining life to stop a past that should have never been."**

"**I, Hermione Weasley, hereby give a portion of my remaining life in defiance of a present that should not exist."**

"**I, Ginny Weasley, hereby give a portion of my remaining life because of a future that I wish to see."**

**Together, they recited the spell that had taken years to create. **

"**Maxima Temporis Destine Amorus"**

**And in the final headquarters of the deceased Order of the Phoenix, a bright white light blinded the occupants, and time stood still. **

**End Chapter One**

A/N: Ok, well I was planning not to put this out until I finish the entire story but I want to get it out there. I hope you liked. I have up to 3 chapters written and chapter 4 is about done and chapter 5 will be working on soon but my beta writer more like translator by Wooster.


	2. A Disappearance

Chapter Two: Hope's Calling

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its characters etc. belong to J.K. Rowling, who uses her possession to drive us all mad with anxiety trying to patiently wait for the new book. It is because of our total lack of patience that we use fanfiction to fill the void.

* * *

Harry Potter sighed as he lowered himself into a chair for the first night of his second round of detentions with the detested Umbridge. Idly, he traced patterns in the wood of his desk with a finger while he waited for the toad-like woman. If she thought throwing him into another set of painful line-writing would stop him from speaking the truth, she had another thing coming. No way was he going to start to spout that Ministry bullsh- 

He was cut off as the object of his loathing waddled into the room. Her hideous bow was a putrid lavender today. She was simpering at him and twirling the blood-quill in between her fat fingers. He thought he just might teach the D.A. how to turn people into toads this week. The thought put a brief smile on his face before she shoved the quill into his hands and told him to write the same lines as last time: I must not tell lies.

He wished he was anywhere else. Anywhere. He winced as the quill cut into his newly healed hand. He could be flying, or exploring the castle with Ron and Hermione…

…and speaking of Ron and Hermione...

"_I, Ron Weasley, hereby give a portion of my remaining life to stop a past that should have never been."_

What the? Was that really Ron? It sounded like him, but at the same time _un-_like him. And what was that about giving up a portion of his life?

"_I, Hermione Weasley, hereby give a portion of my remaining life in defiance of a present that should not exist."_

This too only vaguely sounded like Hermione. He twisted in his seat, trying to see where the voice was coming from. Umbridge gave him a blank stare…she couldn't hear it. Harry blanched, suddenly reminded of his second year, a feeling which intensified as the next voice made itself heard.

"_I, Ginny Weasley, hereby give a portion of my remaining life because of a future that I wish to see."_

Suddenly, Harry felt dizzy. His vision became dark. The quill fell from his hands and he tried to stand. Vaguely, he could hear Umbridge shouting at him to go back to his lines, but her ranting was drowned out by the mysterious voices that sounded almost like his friends.

"_Maxima Temporis Destine Amorus"_

Suddenly, his vision exploded with a bright white light, and he knew no more.

Umbridge stared in shock at the place Harry Potter had just been standing. Where did he go? Numbed with shock, she stupidly looked under the parchment he'd left on the desk as if expecting to see him hiding there and babbling about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return. After a few seconds, though, reality sank in, along with an upsetting realization.

Harry Potter…THE Harry Potter…had disappeared. On her watch.

"Oh Merlin, what can I tell that fool Dumbledore to avoid getting in trouble?" she moaned, twisting the folds of her hideously girlish dress in her hands.

"In trouble for what?" asked Dumbledore coolly from the doorway. Umbridge twirled around with more speed than her mass should allow.

Dumbledore seemed to glide into the room, his uncharacteristically cool eyes never leaving the watery ones of the Ministry (excuse the pun) toady. "I felt a large magical disturbance in this room, and my monitoring device that I've had tuned to young Mr. Potter since the events of the TriWizard Tournament suddenly told me that he had 'disappeared'. Tell me, Umbridge, how this is possible when he was supposed to be under your care?"

Umbridge stuttered hopelessly, sweat dripping from her forehead and upper lip. "I swear I don't know, Headmaster. I was just having him write lines and then suddenly…he…vanished," she trailed off as she saw Dumbledore's eyes fix on the blood quill. She began shaking furiously as he walked forward and picked up the blood soaked parchment. His lips mouthed the words "I must not tell lies" before thinning to an almost invisible line.

"Tell me," he said quietly, still looking down at the parchment, "why a Class B dark arts banned object is being used in my school for detentions."

Before the woman could utter more than a frog-like croak, she was bound and silenced on the floor.

Eyes still cold with fury, Dumbledore stalked to the fireplace and made a quick floo call to the ministry. Within half an hour, Delores Umbridge was hauled off by the aurors, charged with the use of Class B dark objects on minors when in a position of authority and for the kidnapping of one Harry James Potter, boy-who-lived.

It only took two first years catching a glimpse of the detested Defense teacher being escorted out of the building for the Hogwarts gossip chain to spread the news that Umbridge had caused Harry to disappear. Within ten minutes, the entire school was chattering nervously, though a few select Slytherins were snidely commenting that he was probably dead by now.

Though slightly slower than the gossip of Hogwarts, the Daily Prophet wasn't too far behind. By the next day, a special edition paper was sent out to thousands of Wizarding homes all over Britain.

**Boy Who Lived Goes Missing**

**Rita Skeeter**

**In a devastating blow to the hearts of wizards and witches everywhere, Harry James Potter, heralded boy-who-lived, has gone missing. He was last seen in detention with a Ms. Delores Umbridge, newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Assistant to the Minister of Magic. Sources say that young Mr. Potter was given this and one other previous set of detentions for continuing to claim that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, during which a blood quill was used to carve the words "I must not tell lies" into Mr. Potter's hand. As readers are aware, a blood quill is a banned dark arts item. So what was a ministry official doing using one on a minor, and how is it that the disappearance happened under her watch?**

**Umbridge was appointed to her position by the Minister of Magic himself. One must wonder if such extreme acts of violence against young Harry are an attempt to quiet him up. Could it be that the ministry is attempting to keep the fact that You-Know-Who is back from the public, and if so, why? This reporter would like answers.**

**While Minister Fudge still claims that he did not authorize and was completely unaware of the nefarious actions of his trusted advisor, the counts of kidnapping and use of a dark object on a minor ensure that Umbridge will be in Azkaban for a very long time. Reportedly, Albus Dumbledore will be filling in her position himself until a suitable replacement can be found, though he is reported as saying "No other Ministry-recommended faculty will be appointed here from now on, until such time as they can prove their trustworthiness again."**

**Disquieting as the apparent cover-up at the Ministry is, it is nothing to the sadness that permeates the halls of Hogwarts school, where friends, classmates, and teachers worry over the missing Harry Potter. This reporter interviewed some friends of the young hero who, in the course of his four years at Hogwarts has done some extraordinary things.**

"**Harry was a great guy, one of the nicest blokes you could've known," said Kevin Whitby, a second year Hufflepuff. "Last year, some older kids from Slytherin house were picking on me and trying to steal my stuff. Harry stopped them and then helped me gather my books and walked me to class to make sure they didn't do it again. He's not in my year, or even my house, but he still made the effort to be nice to me."**

**But even these extraordinary acts of kindness pale in comparison to the astounding things young Harry has faced. A friend of Harry's who requested to remain anonymous told me, "Harry didn't grow up in the greatest environment. His relatives consider magic to be 'freakish' and they tried to beat it out of him. For the first eleven years of his life, he slept in a small cupboard and still only receives things that his spoiled cousin has outgrown or broken for his own use. And yet, despite the horrible examples he had growing up, he's still about the most kindhearted person I've ever met." **

"**Harry saved his best friend Hermione from a troll in his first year," Morag McDougal told me, "as well as keeping the Philosopher's stone from being stolen when none of the teachers believed it would be. He also killed a basilisk to save his best mate's sister in his second year, could form a corporeal patronus in his third, and when everyone else simply saved their hostage in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, he stuck around to make sure they all made it out. Harry's a hero in every sense of the word and it just burns up those who know him to see him vilified by the ministry! And the same ministry has now caused him to disappear. It's just not right!"**

**Not right indeed. And if all is at it seems, and the Ministry really did make Harry disappear to keep him quiet, then He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and the only one to ever face him and survive…multiple times…is gone.**

**So who does the Ministry of Magic stand for? The people? Or the most evil being to ever walk the earth? This reporter fears it may be the latter. We can only hope that I'm wrong, and that Harry Potter will be returned to us…alive.**

* * *

A/N: I will love to thank my beta writer more like translator and Wooster is great. Now I have written up to ch.7 but sorry guys we had a dance and then tournaments to go to. And she really likes to say she was sorry because she got grounded. But is ungrounded and when districts is over she will be able to finishes her editing faster. So we have to say want it updated faster give me reviews. 


	3. Bitter Reunion

Ch 3: Hope Awakes

**Beta Note: Ok, hi guys. Wooster here. I have a few things to say in my defense before you kill me or my friend crazzyredhead. First: it's not crazzyredhead's fault that this didn't update quickly. She's had this chapter finished for weeks now. It's my fault: but don't hurt me. We had tournaments. I had a project for college composition. I also had to concentrate at least a little on updating my own fanfics which I will shamelessly plug here: "You Pyg" (a House M.D. fanfic) and "Fantasy For Truth" (a Harry Potter fanfic). I'm trying, ok? Besides, editing her stuff is HARD. Really.**

He was back in the cupboard. He could hear voices…Uncle Vernon was probably complaining that he hadn't made breakfast yet.

No…that's not right. He had his own room now. Where was he? The chamber of secrets? The…the graveyard? Harry's head swam. His head ached something awful. He thought maybe he'd hit it on the cold stone floor he was laying on.

"Merlin, he looks just like I remember him."

"Yeah, right down to his inability to stick a landing after magical travel."

That sounded like Ron and Hermione, so he wasn't in death eater clutches. Where was he? He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Slowly, his own hand swam into view, bleeding profusely. Umbridge. The blood quill…and then…

He sat up. Three faces stared at him with concern and, he thought, a touch of fear. Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen.

"Who are you?!" he asked, reaching subconsciously for the wand that had been left by his blood-soaked parchment. His entire body tensed up as he scrutinized his captors. Two women and a man stared at him from scarred and tired faces. "Where am I?!"

They said nothing, simply staring at him. His eyes darted around…the room was familiar. "I'm at headquarters," he realized, "they must be order members."

"Ok, what's going on? One minute I'm in detention with that toad Umbridge and then next thing I know, I'm here." He felt his anger rising. "When are you Order members going to start telling me what's going on in my own bloody life?!" They stared at him, and then the redheaded man whose face looked like Mad Eye Moody's snorted.

"Forgot what a prat he was that year."

"Merlin, Ron, you look at your best friend for the first time in ten years and all you can do is manage to call him names? He's probably very freaked out and the amount of psychological trauma he's been through…even at this point in his life…"

"Just trying to insert some humor into this situation is all, 'Mione! I'm just as freaked out at seeing him as you are. I mean, it's been ten years since he bloody well died!"

"Exactly why this is not the situation for humour, Ronald! He's just been yanked out of his own timeline and dragged involuntarily twelve years into the future and now we need to concentrate on helping him, not calling him names. "

"While I absolutely adore listening to you two bicker like you have every day since you two met, I think now may be the time that you realize that you just told a fifteen year old boy that he'll die in two years and that he's just time traveled to a bleak future in the most insensitive way you could possibly manage and might need to backtrack and explain this a little more slowly."

Sheepishly, a pair of blue eyes and a pair of brown eyes turned towards the boy in the corner, whose suddenly pale skin stood out in sharp contrast to his messy black hair.

"R-Ron? Hermione?" Harry stared at them, eyes wide. "What…I don't understand."

The last woman kneeled down next to him, and laid a familiar hand on his shoulder. He wondered fleetingly who she was. "Harry, I'm sorry. We _meant_ to break this to you gently." She glared at the other two occupants of the room. "You've been pulled forward through time. We'll explain it all to you over dinner, but first let's take care of that cut on your hand. I guess you were in detention with Umbridge when we pulled you out, huh?" She glared at his hand, hoping that they'd maybe intervened before the scar had become permanent. Harry'd always hated that extra scar. "I hope she got blamed for your "disappearance." That would be…poetic. I should have used my bat-bogey curse on her as well as Malfoy that year…"

The term "bat-bogey" jogged something in his brain.

"Gin-Ginny?" he asked, cautiously. The woman smiled sadly at him, chocolate eyes looking into his own. Really, it should've come to him sooner, with her red hair and all, but honestly he hadn't really considered her being in a group with Ron and Hermione. Besides, his memories of her mostly consisted of a small girl with her elbow in the butter dish.

"Yeah," she said. Her heart ached in her chest. For a second, as he stuttered out her name, she'd thought he was calling her "Gin" like he had when they'd dated. She blinked back tears. This was not her Harry. This Harry was still hung up on Cho Chang. He'd not set up the DA, never gone to the Department of Mysteries… This Harry had never kissed her for what felt like several sunlit days in the Gryffindor common room. He was _a_ Harry, but he would never, no matter how much she wished it, be her Harry. She could only hope that some other Ginny somewhere would one day be able to call him that.

"Come on," interrupted Ron, moving towards Ginny and laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "I'm starving."

Hermione smiled at him, "Aren't you always?"

"Hey, I'm a growing boy," he replied quietly. Ginny gave them a weak smile at the joke, and she helped pull Harry to his feet and led him into the kitchen.

Hermione put on some tea while Ron started to cook some eggs and sausage. Harry allowed himself to be led to the table and sat in a rickety chair. A few minutes of uncomfortable silence later, during which Harry stared incredulously at the worn, tired faces surrounding him, a plate of food was placed in front of him and the three adults ranged themselves around the table.

Harry did not touch the food, though the others pretended to pick at it. "What's going on here?" he finally asked. "How could you have brought me into the future…and why? How did I die? I don't understand."

Hermione sighed, and set down her silverware. "Harry…" she started, but Ron lay a hand on hers.

"I'll do it, 'Mione." She smiled gratefully at him. "Harry, mate, we lost the war. Voldemort won." Harry stared, unsure if the revelation that the wizarding world as he knew it was over was more shocking than the fact that Ron had used Voldemort's name without even stuttering. "He killed you the summer before our seventh year and there was simply no one left to defeat him."

Harry looked at him with confusion, "No on left to defeat him? What about Dumbledore? Mad-Eye Moody? Sirius? Why would there be no one left to defeat him after I died?"

The group looked at each other warily, unsure what to say. Ginny spoke up first. "Look, Harry, I promise you that we will not keep any important things from you…but we can't tell you everything right now. A lot of bad things…terrible things…have happened in the past ten years since your death. We will tell you most of it eventually, but you have to understand that if we told you everything now…we're worried it would be way too much at once…ok?"

Harry was unsure about that. He hated when things were kept from him…but she was promising they'd tell him everything…

"Alright, fine. But I expect you to keep that promise."

She smiled, "Don't worry. We learned our lesson from Dumbledore…we won't keep things from you for your own good. You'll know everything by the time we send you back."

"Send me back?" Harry sighed in relief, "You are sending me back."

"Of course," said Hermione, "we are going to train you, and send you back. This future must never happen."

Harry shook his head, confused, "But…how can this be? You explained this to me with the time turner, you're not supposed to meddle like this. It's supposed to be impossible."

She sighed, "True. With a time-turner, you are limited to actions that do not interrupt the course of events that have transpired by the time you turn back, and you can't travel forward through time or you risk creating a paradox." She looked at him, "But we didn't use a time turner. We used an entirely different magical principle. It took us years of research, but you're here so hopefully it will have been worth it."

Picking her wand up, she conjured a small black board and a piece of chalk. She drew a line across the board. "Here is time as you experience it." She drew a curving line connecting a spot on the line to an earlier spot. "This is how a time turner works. It sends you back, linearly, allowing you to act out events as they already happened. When we traveled back in our third year, we were able to save Buckbeak because we already had…you knew you could cast a corporeal patronus because you'd seen yourself do it. No paradoxes are created because you are simply doing something that you've already done, and time operates on a loop." Her chalk traced the loop again, emphasizing her point. Then she vanished the marks and drew a new chalk line across the board.

"This is what the _tempus amori_ spell is doing." She marked a spot on the line. "Here is where you were before we grabbed you." She marked a spot further down the line. "Here is where we are, and now you are as well. When we send you back…" She drew a line branching off the first line from the point she'd marked as the time he'd come from, and another line connected to it, parallel to the first, "it will create a new timeline from that moment on." She looked sadly at him, "this timeline will still exist, so there will be no paradox. We won't have prevented ourselves from pulling you out of time by pulling you out of time." Her head lowered, and her voice suddenly lost the excitement it always had when she was explaining something. "There's nothing we can do for this timeline. It will always exist. But, hopefully, we can create for you a new timeline, where this…this disaster never happens."

Harry stared at her in shock as Ron pulled her into a soft hug. Silent tears were rolling down Ginny's face and Hermione was shaking. His mind was whirling…it was so much to take in.

"Wait, I still don't understand. If you are so keen to change this future, why bring me to the future? Why not an adult, an auror?"

The three looked at each other and, again, it was Ginny who spoke up. "That's one thing we can tell you right now. Frankly, you should have been told long ago, when you asked in your first year why Voldemort wanted to kill you."

Harry's heart rate quickened as Ginny stared into his eyes.

"Harry," she said, "What do you know about prophecies?"

**A/N: I love cliffhangers. Wooster says it's because I'm evil. She's right, of course. Review and I may end your suffering soon…Oh! Bonus points to anyone who can name where we stole our explanation of the time travel theory from. Hint: it's a fairly famous movie…**


	4. Talks and Anger

A/N: Hey folks, Wooster here. I want to make sure all blame for slow updates is placed on me. I'm terrible about that kind of thing. Crazzyredhead has had these chappies planned out for ages. Oh, and for any who thought the time travel explanation was…familiar…we blatantly stole it from "Back to the Future 2". It worked. Oh, and we're probably going to change our chapter titles…for reasons that will become clear later. Drat, one more thing. We've decided to ignore the events of Deathly Hallows for simplicity's sake, and continue to operate under the ideas of what would happen that we fashioned this story under.

Disclaimer: Rowling is why I was at a bookstore at midnight July 21st and didn't sleep until the book I'd purchased was finished (sometime around 11:25 a.m.). It's her magic that inspires such insanity, we just run with the madness.

Chapter 3: Talks and Anger

If someone had walked into the second bedroom on the right on the third floor of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, they would have wanted to know what was so sinister about the small patch of grey wall within it that made the young man sitting on the bed glare at it so singularly. Harry Potter stared at the space in front of him, unseeing, as he sorted out what he had just been told. He moved nary a muscle and his eyes did not wander from their fixed point on the wall. Different thoughts swirled around his mind as if in a pensieve, floating to the surface in seeming random patterns. One phrase in particular seemed burned into his mind's eye, like the imprint left after staring at a light too long.

_Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_

So it was him or Voldemort…kill or be killed. And apparently, he'd been killed. "Not exactly the ending I'd have hoped for," Harry thought sardonically. He felt a brief surge of rage at the Dursleys, but quickly dismissed it. While he hadn't expected them to sell him out, mostly because he couldn't imagine them dealing with any wizards whatsoever, he wasn't exactly shocked. His thoughts returned to the prophecy, and its outcome. If he was "The Chosen One" as Ron had called him with an ironic tone hinting at some old joke, why in Merlin's name hadn't he been trained to prevent exactly that ending? Even if the others hadn't known, Dumbledore had…

The springs of the ancient bed shrieked as Harry leapt abruptly to his feet. Red seemed to cloud his vision as thousands of instances where Dumbledore could have said something, things that could have been different if only he'd known, rushed through his brain. An image of Cedric's cold, lifeless gaze floated through the haze and he grabbed an inkwell off the desk and hurled it across the room. It shattered with a satisfying force and sent sprays of red ink dripping down the walls as if the impact had caused the wall to bleed. Soon the room was full of the sounds of crashes as object after object flew across the room. The chair was broken in half, the bedsheets were torn from the bed, and an old locket had left a dent in the wall the size of a thumb before Harry realized he was being watched. Halfway through hurling a heavy old paperweight at the headboard, he turned to find Ginny Weasley leaning on the doorframe, smiling sadly at him. Her calm demeanor and the vague amusement in her eyes arrested his movements, and he slowly lowered his arm.

"I…" he started, feeling foolish, but Ginny just shook her head and let out a rueful chuckle.

"You told me once that after Dumbledore first told you the prophecy, you trashed his office." She crossed the room, seeming to admire the damage. With a flick of her wand she remade the bed, but made no move to put the rest of the room to rights. Instead, she sat on the end and motioned for Harry to have a seat as well. Confused, he set the paperweight back on the desk and slowly lowered himself next to her. "I'd always wondered what it looked like, I guess now I have a vague idea." She spared a brief glance at his questioning expression and smiled softly. "You forgave Dumbledore once you calmed down a bit, and after you'd let it sink in you were a lot calmer than you'd been. I think being out of the loop really upset you. No one held your actions against you, least of all Dumbledore, don't worry about that."

Harry blushed, "Oh, it's not that…it's just…" he looked at her oddly once again, "I don't think I've ever heard you talk so much."

It was Ginny's turn to blush, mortified at the memory of her past actions. "Oh. Yes, I was a bit shy back then, wasn't I?" Harry gaped at her. A bit? "Oh don't look at me like that, Potter," she snapped, "I got over it later in the year you came out of, if you must know. We got to know each other quite well through the D.A. and after the battle of the Ministry we became…very good friends."

Harry tried very hard to process all this. It was hard to think of this tired-looking woman as the young girl who blushed every time she saw him and who stuck her elbow in the butter dish, and harder still to believe that they'd become good friends by the end of the year. But then he realized she hadn't blushed around him for a while now, and that she'd talked plainly enough around him without running out of the room since the summer. Setting these thoughts aside, he latched on to another.

"D.A.?" he asked, "What's that?" Fear creeped into his voice, "It's not like _spew_ is it?"

Ginny looked confused for a moment, and then threw her head back and laughed. It transformed her face, and suddenly he could see the girl she'd been. Something deep in his chest seemed to growl, like a monster awakening from a deep sleep, but before he could think what it was, she was answering him.

"No, it's not like S.P.E.W." she said, in a perfect imitation of Hermione. "It's the defense club you set up later in your fifth year at Hermione's prompting. It stood for Dumbledore's Army, as that was what the Ministry was most afraid of. The name was my idea," she said with a bit of a smirk. "You taught us all how to defend ourselves, right under Umbridge's nose. Not only was it a glorious act of rebellion, it helped us stay alive when we ended up fighting at the Ministry later in the year."

Harry immediately remembered Hermione's proposal from the night before. "Had it been such a short time ago?" he wondered. It seemed like ages ago. Then again, it was twelve years in the past, depending on how you looked at it. "You mean I actually agreed to that?"

"Yes, and it was a huge success. No idea why you didn't continue with it after that year. I think everyone would've been willing to return…except for Marietta of course." She snickered at some memory, and Harry wished he were in on the joke…and wondered who Marietta was.

"How many people were in it?" he asked.

"Lots, actually." Ginny smiled at him. "A ton of Gryffindors, of course, but several Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as well."

At the word "Ravenclaws" Harry's ears perked up. "Was Cho Chang in the D.A.?" he asked eagerly.

Suddenly, Ginny's sunny mood turned cloudy, much to Harry's consternation. "Yes. She was." She stood up. "Well, I'm going to get some sleep Harry. We enter the training room tomorrow." She left the room, leaving a very confused Harry in her wake. "What'd I say?" he wondered allowed. A flash of bright red in the corner of his eye had him looking back at the door, thinking she'd come back and instead found Ron poking his head in the door.

"Hey mate, saw Ginny leave so I figured it'd be safe to visit."

Harry stared at him, confused as to why he was disappointed that it hadn't been Ginny after all. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, she was always the only one who could talk to you when you got like that. The rest of us were too scared, but Ginny…well…I guess growing up with six older brothers left her unafraid of unreasonable boys." He smiled lightly to show it was a joke, and Harry grinned a little in return.

"Hey, Ron?" he asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Did Ginny have some kind of fight with Cho?"

Ron looked at him oddly. "Not that I can remember. Why?" 

"Well, we were talking about the D.A. and I asked her if Cho had been a member and she looked upset and then left."

Ron was silent for a while, and seemed to stare out the door where his sister had left only a minute ago. "It's really not my story to tell, Harry." He laughed at the bewildered look on the teenager's face next to him. "Trust me, Harry…I've been married for almost a decade and I still don't understand women. It's best not to try." He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder and the fatherly gesture made him feel suddenly old. "Don't worry about it. Fancy a game of chess before bed?"

End Chapter Five


	5. Chess, Talks, and a Prankster

A/N: (ducking sharp objects thrown her way) Eeep! Ok, I'm sorry! I know I should work faster. Again, all my (Wooster) fault! Look, I started at college ok? I haven't even been working on my OWN fanfics! I've been getting used to living in a dorm. Which, admittedly, is code for going to lots of parties, watching anime and playing video games, but hey.

Chapter 5: Chess, talks and a prankster

In the eleven months following his abrupt extraction from time, the nightly games of chess with Ron were the only things that felt familiar from his old life. Ron's newfound (or so it seemed to Harry) maturity was not so apparent over a chessboard, where the impulsive redhead had always played with a certain sobriety.

"Ron?"

"Knight to E-5," Ron intoned quietly, and looked up from the battle below to regard his one-time best mate. "Yeah, Harry?"

"There's something I don't understand," said Harry. "Actually, there's a lot of things I don't understand at the moment, but there's one thing in particular that…well…" He took a deep breath. "Look, I still don't understand why you all are doing this, even after all this time. From what Hermione has said, it won't change a thing for you. You're still going to be stuck in this…this place, time, whatever. But you're going through all of this trouble. Why?"

Blue eyes regarded green for several long moments, and the familiarity of their shape and color terrified Harry, because behind them was a completely alien sorrow.

"Because, Harry, somewhere out there in time there is a Ronald Weasley who won't lose almost everyone in his family before he hits thirty. Training you, here, means that maybe they'll survive. Training you means maybe, somewhere, my wife won't become an orphan. It means that my sister won't be a shell of her former self because she lost the man she loved, because it means the man that I considered my brother will be able to fight back and kill the bastard who did this. It means you'll live, and that's worth any amount of effort."

The two fell silent, contemplating the bittersweet idea of a second chance.

Harry studied the board carefully. Seeing his move, he quickly pushed his bishop three squares to the right, taking Ron's knight.

"Check."

He groaned as Ron gave him a soft smile, so different from his old smirk, and nudged forward his rook, taking the bishop.

"Checkmate, Harry." His blue eyes lit up with a touch of mischief. "What is that, 723 to 4?"

Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Frankly, I'm pretty proud I've even won any."

Ron chuckled as he replaced the tiredly bickering pieces in their box. "True, you've gotten much better these past months. In fact, in this game, if you'd just used that pawn three moves before…"

"Ron! Please, we already played the game once. Let's not do it again."

Harry collapsed against the worn sofa cushions. "Ugh, training was exhausting today." He began to count on his fingers. "First, there was 'history and psychology' with Hermione, learning about the Ministry's bungling and how to get around it. Then there was physical training with you and weapons training with George. And then dueling with Ginny!" He rubbed sorely at his throbbing elbow. "Whoever taught that girl to fight should have their wand snapped and be forced to live as a muggle."

A chuckle came from the doorway. "Alright, Harry, but I kinda thought you preferred life as a wizard." George ambled into the room. "Oh, Ron. Hermione said that if you don't spend some time with her now you can forget about spending time with her tonight, if you know what I mean."

Ron gave Harry a small wink and put the chess set away. "Well, can't leave Mrs. Weasley waiting, can I?" He left the room in a rush, and George collapsed into his vacated chair.

"Hey, George," Harry said, relaxing in the presence of the stocky redhead. He'd grown to really enjoy his talks with George, mostly because they often included plans to prank the Slytherins and teachers, (especially Umbridge,) when he was returned to the past. But George also had a serious side to him he'd not had in Harry's memory of the past. The loss of his family had hit him hard, especially the loss of his twin. Fred had died saving his fiancée Angelina Johnson when the death eaters had attacked Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. George spent most of his time outside of headquarters, trying to recruit more rebels, but sometimes returned to help Hermione, Ron, and Ginny in Harry's training.

"Harry," George replied in greeting. He propped his feet on the table that had held the chess set, and Harry did likewise. "Before we start the very important business of planning future pranks…I brought you a present."

Harry looked at him warily. Presents from a Weasley twin, even a more mature and serious Weasley twin, were to be regarded with caution.

George laughed at his suspicious gaze and pulled out a large glass bottle. "Firewhiskey. You are entering the last month of your intensive, year-long, save-the-universe training, and that's reason enough to get a little sloshed to my way of thinking." He poured two liberal shots of the deep amber liquid. "Just don't tell 'Mione that I gave you alcohol. My dear sister-in-law is rather scary."

Harry curiously picked up the glass and, after making sure George had drank some first, swallowed the whole shot in the same swift motion. He nearly choked on the fiery feel of it in his throat, but enjoyed the warm feel of it as it settled in his stomach.

"Hey! That's not half bad!" he said, as George poured him another.

"Drink the rest of these slowly. No need to get fall-down drunk before we have a chance to talk."

Harry nodded and sipped at the drink, slowly becoming accustomed to the burning feeling.

"Now, I have only one item of business on the pranking field tonight."

"Uh-huh?"

"I need you to promise me that you will prank…me."

Harry blinked at him. "What?"

George nodded sagely over his shot glass. "I've only ever been effectively pranked once in my life, and it's really a shame. How can you properly appreciate pranking others unless you have been on the receiving end of a really good prank?"

Harry pondered this for a while as he sipped at his third glass of liquor. It took him a minute, as his mind was going slightly hazy. "I…guess that makes sense," he concluded finally.

"So, will you do it?"

"Sure," said Harry, shrugging, and poured himself another glass. He held it for a while without taking a sip, thinking. "Who was it who pranked you before? Fred?"

George chuckled. "Nah, we never were any good at pranking each other. Knew each other too well. No, it was ickle Gin-Gin who did it. I won't go into details but it involved a kneazle, pink lipstick, one of Dad's muggle contraptions – a blender I think it was – and the entire Chudley Cannon's quidditch team. I still haven't figured out where she stashed the blackmail pictures." He shuddered.

"When'd that happen?"

"Gosh, she can't have been more than eight or so. Titchy thing, she was, but size is no indication of power."

"You said that to me once," Harry remembered, "You or Fred. At Grimmauld Place the summer before…well…you know. I just can't imagine Ginny doing something that crazy." He thought for a moment. "Well, I can imagine this Ginny doing it," he said, jerking his head toward the stairs, "but she's all grown up and stuff. I mean, she was all shy and quiet and nervous and jumpy and cute and…"

"Whoa, Harry, you're starting to ramble there," said George amusedly. _Cute, huh?_ "And she's always been like she is now. Well, obviously she was a lot happier before the war ruined everything, and even more so before Riddle died. But she was only ever shy around you, and she got over that quick enough." George shiftily grinned as the slightly glassy-eyed Harry clumsily filled himself another glass. "Do you miss her being shy? I bet I would, the way she works you to the bone."

"No' really," Harry said, grinning to himself. "I like tha' she talksh to me now. She's real funny, y'know? And when she getsh angry, it's jush like…" he made a vague explosion noise as he clapped his hands together, "and it's scary 's hell, but it's kinda awesome too." He grinned, "And when she laughs…I hope she's like tha' when I go back. Think she will be?" He looked at George hopefully, "I don' think I c'n stand it if she's shy 'round me again. She's too much fun!"

"Well," said George, pretending to consider, "You could involve her in the pranks. That'd be sure to make her have fun with you, instead of being shy." He grinned. "If it's good enough, she may even kiss you," he added nonchalantly.

Harry smiled vaguely, "Y'think? Tha'd be nice…" And he promptly passed out on the sofa, snoring softly.

George chuckled and placed a hangover potion on the table next to the sixteen year old kid. "Ginny, you may just get your guy a little quicker than expected," he said. And he ambled off to his own room, whistling jauntily.


	6. Bickering and Biscuits

A/N: Ok, ok…Put down the tar and feathers

A/N: Ok, ok…Put down the tar and feathers. I'm back. Crazzyredhead's pestering has finally gotten me back on Word and into the writing side of fanfic. It's been a while, I know. But my exams are done, I'm out for the summer, and my computer is my constant companion…and so: an update. Don't blame my lovely coauthor any, it's my fault yet again. Just remember that maimed authors can't update fanfictions, ok? Oh, second to last scene blatantly ripped of my fave book ever, "The Time Traveler's Wife".

Chapter 6 – Bickering and Biscuits

"While Scrimgeor is marginally better than Fudge, displaying an ounce of competence at least, you must remember to be careful around him should he ever be elected to office in your timeline. I think it best if you just consider yourself independent from the Ministry from now on. That isn't to say that you should blatantly defy the Ministry, as you had a habit of doing your fifth year especially. That can only lead to trouble. I suggest that you fake compliance whilst secretly…"

Hermione's lecture was cut off as she suddenly realized Harry was beating his head on the desk he was sitting at. She huffed in annoyance. "Now, really, Harry. You return to the past in less than a month! You have to learn all of this! I can't believe you aren't taking my lessons seriously – it's important!"

Harry lifted his head to glare at her. The effect was slightly ruined by the parchment stuck to his forehead where the ink from his note-taking was still sticky. Angrily, he batted it aside.

"What's important?!" he cried angrily. "Fighting skills: that's important. Occlumency, weapons training, dueling practice: those are important! How in the hell is knowing all this secretive, _Slytherin _bullshit going to help me any?!"

"You could use a little knowledge of 'Slytherin bullshit' Harry. It works. That's how Slytherins thrive so well. If you knew a little 'Slytherin bullshit,' maybe you wouldn't have rushed into so many things half-cocked and manage to make everything harder on yourself."

Harry attempted to try and interject but Hermione, who was already quite frazzled from the stress of training her much-younger and long-dead best friend while simultaneously coordinating a revolution, was on a rampage.

"And why you consistently hang onto that 'Slytherin is evil' mentality when I know perfectly well, from your own mouth mind you, that you were supposed to have been a Slytherin yourself is beyond me! Not all Slytherins are Draco bloody Malfoy or Severus fucking Snape. Slughorn, while a cowardly bastard, used his cunning to aid himself while harming no-one. A little bit of self-preservation is hardly going to kill you, it's against its definition."

Harry stared in shock, mostly because he'd never heard Hermione swear.

"And if you would just tap into that Slytherin cunning that I KNOW you have, maybe you could deduce things better and faster, like the fact that you could use your mirror from Sirius to contact him, or that Ginny loves you just as much as you love her or that you should probably not punch Malfoy in front of Delores Umbridge. And I know you're smart Harry, I know it! And if you waste all this training by taking the all-brawn no-brains approach I will find a way to kill people across parallel universes if it takes me forever and you will regret the day…"

The rest of her speech became unpleasant background-buzzing as Harry felt his throat drop into somewhere in his stomach region. What was that about Ginny?

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"I've never understood why you put salt in biscuits."

Harry glanced up at Ginny as he carefully measured the substance in question for the batch of biscuits the two were making. "I think it's to balance all the sugar of the other ingredients out. It's not like they come out tasting salty, is it?"

Ginny shrugged indifferently as she drew pictures in the flour he'd spread on the counter to roll the dough on. "Who knows? None of the biscuits I've ever baked have been anywhere near edible enough for me to find out."

Harry laughed. "With your mum being who she was, you'd think you'd know how to cook." He batted her hands away and spread more flour. "Luckily for you, years with the Dursleys have ensured that I am an expert, so even your disastrous influence can't mess these treats up."

"Hey!"

While the biscuits were in the oven, Harry and Ginny chatted and bickered. They'd gotten quite comfortable with each other of the course of his year-long training. Harry had found the only Weasley girl to not only be smart and funny, but wickedly devious as well, often giving George a run for his money. He had made the decision long ago to get to know Ginny Weasley properly when he returned to his past, as she was obviously not who he had originally thought. Slips of the tongue from his friends over the past year, however, had strongly hinted at an entire other possibility besides friendship with the redhead, and the thought had him blushing at times with no discernible motive. He glanced shyly at the woman in front of him and wondered again if there was something more to her past, his future, than he knew.

In less than half an hour, the biscuits had baked and cooled sufficiently and the two munched greedily.

"So…" Harry said after his fifth biscuit, Ginny's fourth, "I'm going back to the past tomorrow."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at the not-too-subtle nonchalance, but nodded slowly. "Uh-huh."

"Is there anything else about the future I should know about?"

Ginny blinked. "Like what?"

It Harry was now who was drawing pictures in the flour that still covered most of the kitchen table, steadfastly avoiding her gaze. "Like if I maybe…I dunno…find my true love or something?"

Ginny stared at him, and then quickly averted her eyes. "Actually, you have a mad, torrid affair with Millicent Bulstrode."

Harry's head snapped up with a look of horror. "Don't _say_ such things!" he said aghast. "I'll have nightmares for weeks." He was quiet for a moment…then…"What about you?"

"Excuse me?"

Harry persisted. "Who do you fall in love with?" 

"Harry…I don't want to talk about this."

"Is he a Gryffindor?"

"Harry…I…Yes."

"Do I know him?"

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"Oh."

Ginny stared at him. "Why all the curiosity, Harry?"

His response was so quiet, she had to ask him to repeat it.

"I'd hoped it might have been me."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

A pitch black owl soared through the window of what was once the Great Hall of Hogwarts and was now a macabre throne room to the darkest wizard of the age. Long, sinewy fingers, pale as moonlight, relieved the bird of its burden and it took off as fast as its wings could carry it. After reading the letter, Lord Voldemort's face curled into a lipless smile, causing his death eaters who held court to shudder. The "light" side's hope for winning the war had essentially ended the day he had killed Harry Potter, he reflected. Tomorrow, he would officially end it. Tomorrow, the last surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix would perish. He knew their location at last.


	7. In Which A Hero Returns

**A/N: Yes, yes, yes. Sorry as usual for our horrendous updating habits. In our defense, crazzyredhead has three jobs and Wooster has two jobs and both of us have college to deal with. So…yeah. Anyway, here it is! The final chapter of "Hope's Rebirth", the first installment of the Hope Sequence. Enjoy. Notes on what's coming up are in the ridiculously long post-chappie A/N, so please read it!**

Chapter 7

In Which a Hero Returns

Had Ronald Weasley taken a moment to think about it, he would trace the source of his large grin to the fact that the bustling in the basement of 12 Grimmauld Place reminded him strongly of the Burrow. His Hermione in particular seemed to be channeling his mother, rushing about making a big breakfast for everyone, worrying that everything was ready to go, and now fussing over Harry. George had happily slipped back in the role of general nuisance and was sneaking in smart-arse remarks between her instructions.

"Now Harry, make sure you remember to start up the D.A. right away."

"…did you pack extra pants? I know you always forget to pack extra undies…"

"And careful with those Quidditch moves, I don't know how many years you took off my life with careless stunts…"

"…make sure you wear two sweaters and a winter cloak. Those Scottish winters are brutal and we can't have you catching cold!"

"Don't you dare let Dumbledore anywhere near that damned ring."

"…make sure you write me letters every day! I don't care if your friends make fun of you I want to know my ickle Harrykins is safe."

"And finally, don't forget to have fun and if you say one more word George Weasley I will personally bake you into a pie!"

"Aye, aye Mrs. Lovett ma'am."

Harry clutched at his ribs, breathless with laughter. Ron and Ginny simply looked on fondly as Hermione punched George in the arm, which he responded to by clutching it and howling. For a brief, shining moment, the room rang with laughter. Finally, Harry pulled himself together and straightened up.

"I won't forget 'Mione. I won't forget _anything_. Thank you." He ran forward and gave her a hug. She hugged him back and promptly burst into tears. Ron rolled his eyes as he dragged his inconsolable wife away. "I swear, she's turning into my mum more and more with each passing day," he griped. He put her to work "double checking" (for the fiftieth time) the runes etched onto the floor for the return magic and quickly returned. "But seriously, Harry, good luck and all that. I believe in you. Always have. And if you remember nothing else, remember this: you're a hero second, and my best friend first." He gave Harry a brief, but strong hug and went to go help his wife.

"Well I guess it's my turn then," George grinned. "Lots of mushy stuff and inspiring words yadda yadda yadda." His face turned serious for a second. "I'm proud of you kid. Couldn't be prouder."

"Thanks George," Harry smiled.

George cleared his throat and backed up, giving a wink to Ginny.

"Hey," Harry said.

"Hey," Ginny said.

An almighty crash shook the room and a feeling of deeply penetrating cold permeated the entire house. Everyone felt a horrible sense of doom as the wards fell and a cold high laughter sounded from above.

It was George who broke the silence.

"He's here. He's found us." He turned to the others. "You need to get him out of here. I'll hold him off. Get Harry back!!!" He turned and ran warding the basement door as he did. The others stared after him in horror before they quickly shoved Harry into the middle of the runic circle and arranged themselves at the three points of the inner triangle.

The three chanted even through the crashes of Voldemort and his death eaters battering the wards. They chanted through the horrible sounds of George dueling. They chanted as they heard him yell "_Fred"_ as his life was carried away in a whoosh of green light. And as Harry vanished, the last thing he heard was Voldemort's shocked cry of "Harry Potter!" and the last thing he saw was Ginny's warm smile and nod.

(12 years, 11 months earlier)

Harry Potter had been missing for a month. In that time, the wizarding world had rallied against the Minister, sparking a vote of no confidence. Defense was on everyone's mind. The Order was working overtime trying to prepare for the eventuality of fighting You-Know-Who without the aid of the Chosen One. Dumbledore himself took time off from his headmaster duties to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts personally.

Harry Potter had been missing for a month. And then, in the middle of fourth year Gryffindor DADA, he returned. In a flash of light. Right on top of Ginevra Molly Weasley.

"Hello, love!" He said with a grin, and kissed the shocked redhead straight on the mouth as the class erupted into pandemonium.

**A/N 2: IMPORTANT SEQUEL INFO!**

**So, there you have it: the end of our first story in the Hope Sequence. Here's what's going on sequel-wise. The next installment in the Sequence is a one-shot dealing with what happened after Harry left the alternate future (because, if you'll remember, it's a separate reality from Harry's and will not be affected by his changing the past.) It will be entitled "Hope's Repercussions". Following that will be the official second story of the Sequence, which will be entitled "Hope's Return" and will continue from where this story left off. It will have a more light-hearted, action-adventure feel to it than "Hope's Rebirth" and will include humorous H/G fluff, prank-wars, an independent Harry who will exhibit some of his Slytherin side and LOTS of flashbacks that will allow you to see the training he underwent in the future. It will in all likelihood be much longer than this story, which was essentially set-up for it. We're looking forward to it, and we hope you are too. With love, crazzyredhead and Wooster. **

**A/N3: Also, crazzyredhead would like to note that for readers of her other stories, she will be updating the HP ones (not the xover) soon!**


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